


Sweet n' Sour

by LadyJaguar



Category: Holby City
Genre: Arguing, Explicit Language, Fluff and Smut, Gay, M/M, Makeup Sex, Making Up, Non-Canon Relationship, One Shot, Short & Sweet, johnrik, tiny bit of smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-12 01:43:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20163598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyJaguar/pseuds/LadyJaguar
Summary: Written in response to a writing prompt: Muse 1 gripping Muse 2's jaw to force them to look into their eyes. For Johnrik.Pantsing this totally whilst sitting in a coffee shop, eating a cheese and onion toastie. The glamorous life of a writer…...and edited since then. I don't spend ALL day in coffee shops!





	Sweet n' Sour

It started off as what should have been a minor disagreement. John had been so preoccupied by work, he hadn’t picked up the dinner as he had promised. There was nothing in, and Henrik didn’t want to cook again after a heavy day of theatre and admin to deal with.

It wasn't the first time it had happened. John ate like a bird and was rarely hungry, so food wasn't something he gave top priority to, especially when immersed in work. When Henrik wasn't there, he rarely had more than a cup of soup to keep him going, but he always ate if Henrik took a sandwich down to the lab. Sometimes he did it just to make sure John ate during the day. 

There was also another subject neither of them wanted to face. Henrik was shy about acknowledging their relationship publicly. On the surface he was a slightly repressed straight man, still grieving over the love of his life, Roxanna, who had died of a brain hemorrhage months before. That had been everyone's assumption, and he had never corrected them.

The truth was, this had never been the case. Roxanna’s death had been a tragedy, leaving everyone reeling, and as one of her closest friends, Henrik had been hit hardest of all, but not because he loved her any more than a friend. Still, it was a convenient excuse, and it had provided useful cover whilst he and John worked out what the hell was happening between them.

Now things were serious, however, the time was coming when it would have to be tackled.

It (whatever "it" was) had started when John first arrived at Holby, although John argued it started way before that. Thirty years before in fact, in 1989 when they were all at university.

Or it could possibly have started in Berlin, when they had bumped into each other at the medical conference, and things had taken a heated turn after a bottle of Glenmorangie and shared memories.

Or it could have been that drunken meal after Roxanna’s funeral, when they ended up in John’s new apartment, where there was only one bed and no sofa yet, as it hadn't been delivered.

Anyway, the absence of sweet and sour pork was what triggered the row. John had arrived at Henrik's apartment first, fed Virgil, the huge Maine Coon cat Henrik had recently adopted, and pottered around, vaguely thinking he was sure there was something he should have done.

When Henrik arrived an hour later, hungry and bad-tempered after a day sorting out human resources problems that really should have been dealt with by his team, the first thing he did was pour a glass of Pinot Grigio and look in the fridge for what John had bought for dinner.

And found nothing.

“Shit,” John said, when he saw Henrik’s face. “I completely forgot. I'm so sorry...”

Henrik slammed the fridge. “How difficult is it to remember one sodding Chinese meal?" He glanced down and saw Virgil hoofing down the last of the chicken from the night before. "Fantastic. I see the cat’s been fed! Talk about being last in the pecking order!”

His tone had immediately put John on the offensive, the apology drying on his lips. That wasn’t fair, as he had put in a full day’s work as well. He balled up the tea towel he had been holding and threw it on the floor.

“Hey, I apologised, didn't I? It totally went out of my mind! You're not the only one whose had a bad day.”

“So? How hard is it to write something on a post-it note, John? I’ve cooked every night this week and all I wanted to do was to sit down and eat something I didn’t have to prepare myself! Is that too much to ask?”

John put his hands on his hips and glared at him. “That's charming. If you wanted a little woman at home to prepare your meals for you, you should have damned well married one! I’m not your fucking servant, Henrik. What the hell is wrong with you? Get a housekeeper if you want that kind of service.”

Henrik stabbed an angry finger at him. “You had one job, that’s all! I’m beginning to think I do all the work in this relationship.”

"Ha!" John's explosive laugh was humourless. "So we do have a relationship? Well, thanks for acknowledging it. Finally! I thought I was just the bit on the side you use to scratch an itch while no one’s looking.”

Henrik blinked, unsure how the subject had switched from no supper to no relationship. “That isn’t fair and you know it.”

“Do I? Why won’t you face the fact you’re hiding me like some dirty little secret?”

“Don’t be dramatic, John, I'm doing nothing of the sort." Henrik ran his fingers through his hair, irritated because he had a feeling John was right. It wasn't intentional, just a convenient misunderstanding about Roxanna that he had been able to hide behind.

John’s jaw dropped. “Wow, you really are being a prize knob tonight. If this is how you act because I’ve done something totally minor like forgetting to stop off for a take-away, what the hell are you going to be like if something serious happens? You know what? Forget it. I’m done with you. Next time you want some fun, you can just wank off to some gay porn and still pretend you’re straight.”

The insult hit home. As Henrik reeled from the viciously-thrown words, John pushed past Henrik and headed for the door.

Belatedly, Henrik realised he was serious. He was walking out and the chances were, he wouldn’t return.

“John…”

“No, Henrik, I’m done. I’ve had it. I wanted us to be a couple, but that isn’t what you want. You just want someone to feed you and fuck you. That’s it. I can’t do that. I need you to love me and you just don’t, do you?” John scooped up Virgil and tucked him under his arm. “I’m going back home. I’ll get my stuff tomorrow when you’re at work.” His eyes were wet with tears.

Henrik was there before him, blocking his way. “You’re not taking the cat.”

"He's my cat! I'm the one who feeds him and loves him. He can't tolerate negative energy and you're full of it." John pushed past Henrik, reaching for the door handle. Virgil glared at Henrik, silently judging him for his behaviour, tail swishing gently from side to side. 

John tugged the door handle. Virgil jumped out of his arms. In frustration, John punched the door.

"Fuck!" 

"John... John, stop it." Henrik gently put his hand over John's and held it, waiting for him to stop struggling. "I want us to have a relationship. And I do love you, more than I can ever express." he said quietly. The thought that that John had that opinion of him hurt more than he could bear. Had he really been so terribly blinkered he hadn't seen it?

John wouldn't look at him. He kept his hand on the door. "Really? Because it doesn't seem that way to me."

"I... just don't know how to ..." Henrik groped for the words, "say it, I suppose, but I do love you. And I'm sorry. My behaviour tonight was unforgivable."

"Yeah, it was shit," John mumbled. He still refused to look at him. Finally, he managed to open the door. "I'll go anyway. I don't think either of us are great company tonight."

"John, please look at me." Henrik couldn't bear it. He didn't want John to leave after so many hurtful words had been spoken. 

A shake of the head. 

Henrik knew if John walked away then, nothing would be resolved. The fissures which hard opened between them would turn into chasms, insurmountable, unfathomable, and he would lose him for good. 

He placed a firm hand on John's jaw and made him look up into his eyes.

"Stay," he said, making his voice stern. If he showed any sign of weakness, John would not be convinced he meant it. He may even despise him. It was time to show he could be strong as well.

His hand slipped down to John's throat and pinned him against the wall. "Stay," he said again, and gave him a little squeeze to emphasise his words. Being dominant didn't come naturally to him, but seeing the spark lighting up in John's eyes gave him a rush. _He could get used to this._

John's eyes gleamed. He smiled slightly. "You want me to sit as well?"

Henrik drew a patient breath. "John... you know what I meant."

"You want me to be a good dog, Henrik? Obedient, compliant, hoping you'll give me a bone?"

Henrik's fingers tightened around his throat. John was very small next to him, yet surging with nervous energy. He could feel it through his fingertips, that tensile strength, the ability to fight back if Henrik pushed him too far. It was what made him irresistible, as well as his shapely lips and laughing green eyes, sparking now with anger and fire and... something else. 

"I love you," Henrik said again, the words forming of their own volition. "And you're staying right here with me."

And with that, he was no longer in control, John slamming the door again and dragging him down to the floor, effortlessly, his martial arts training coming in handy yet again. Not for the first time, Henrik found himself on the floor looking up at him, John's body straddling his, his hands on Henrik's wrists, holding them by his head. 

"That's the last time you come home in that kind of mood and take it out on me," John said forcefully, and kissed him, his tongue forging between Henrik's lips. He peeled his glasses away and put them under the sofa, safe from harm, and went back to kissing him decisively and deeply. When the kiss ended, they were both breathless and ready for more. Henrik felt John shift on him, lying full-length, his body molding against his, stomach to stomach, thigh to thigh, groin to groin. Two blunt forces snagged against each other as both of their bodies reacted to the close contact. 

"Stop it," he muttered, voice thick with immediate arousal. John knew just how to seduce him, his fingers delicately unfastening the buttons on Henrik's shirt, slipping away his tie, moving down to stroke his stomach and undo his trouser button, the zip hissing inaudibly, letting John's hand slip inside and ....

He closed his eyes and abandoned himself to the pleasure flaring at John's touch. His body was out of his control, rigid and super-sensitive, the friction caused by John's hand an exquisite delight...

The sudden grab at his scrotum made him jolt and yelp. His eyes flew open to see John, looking amused. 

"Sweet and sour pork balls," he said sternly, withdrawing his hand. "Egg fried rice, crispy beef, duck spring rolls. Off you go. I'm starving."

Henrik stared at him, his face flushed. "Right now? Can't you just....?"

John shook his head. "I want my supper, and after the way you acted tonight, you can damned well go get it. Then, and only then, I might treat you to dessert." He zipped Henrik's trousers and patted him lovingly. "Here endeth the lesson."

"Bastard," Henrik muttered, sitting up. His heart was racing from his sudden erection, followed by crashing down to earth. It wasn't a nice feeling. He staggered to his feet and adjusted his clothing. 

Virgil stared at him, as if to say "what did you expect, dickhead?"

John poured himself a glass of Pinot and settled on the sofa. Henrik watched him unfasten his shirt and ease the garment out from his trousers. He looked louche and sexy, his smooth chest bare, watching Henrik with a predatory smile.

"Off you go. I'll be here when you get back."

Henrik considered him for a moment. "I have a better idea. Why don't we go out to that new Thai restaurant near Albies? I've heard it's good."

John sipped his wine. "That's close to the hospital. People we work with might see us. And if they do, they might talk."

Henrik took the glass out of John's hands and pulled him to his feet. He fastened the buttons on John's shirt again and kissed him on the lips. "I don't actually care any more. I just want to share a good meal with the man I love. And then..."

John quirked an eyebrow. "And then?"

"We'll come back here and you can punish me for my transgressions. But you're paying for the meal."

As John laughed joyously, Virgil gave him a cold stare and jumped onto the sofa, on the warm spot John had left. He knew he wouldn't be getting any pork balls for a while.


End file.
